


Critical Mass

by BeyondTheHorizonIsHope



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Found Family, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Past Brainwashing, Stormtrooper Culture, Stormtrooper Rebellion, That's Not How The Force Works, Trust Issues, how finn's story should have been but Disney wanted something more lighthearted, twenty years of brainwashing and he walks away in five minutes yeah okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondTheHorizonIsHope/pseuds/BeyondTheHorizonIsHope
Summary: Her life has been dedicated to one thing: the First Order. As a member of the infamous Knight Squadron, a unit of elite pilots personally overseen by General Hux, Demo is an example of the perfect stormtrooper. Ruthless, efficient, and unwavering, she and the other members of Knight Squadron made clear that the First Order’s presence in the Unknown Regions was a thing to be feared.But one assignment would change everything.It was supposed to be a simple escort mission, but when Demo discovers what cargo Knight Squadron was delivering to the First Order, she does the unthinkable: she disobeys. Hijacking the ship, Demo flees the Unknown Regions with the First Order hot on her heels. Seeing an opportunity, General Organa dispatches her best pilot to find the wayward trooper and bring her in.However, one decision does not change twenty-five years’ worth of obedience, and Poe Dameron is going to learn very quickly that not all troopers are so willing to accept his help.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Critical Mass

_"There is one thing in the world more_  
wicked than the desire to command,  
and that is the will to obey."

\- William Kingdon Clifford

**Prologue**

_Ring of Kafrene_

It had once been a populous mining site, home to a multitude of cultures and corporations, but the collapse of the Empire lead to many of the mines being closed down – no more Death Stars to build after all – and the area fell into disrepair. The Hutts attempted to take control of the region, but their reach had dwindled over the past decade, leaving the station in the hands of local gangs. It had become a hotbed of illegal activity – not that things had been easygoing under Imperial rule – with a reputation that rivaled some of the Outer Rim worlds.

So, of course his person of interest would be holed up here.

Poe Dameron sighed as he stepped into the spaceport, vaguely paying attention as the docking clamps grinded into place. The old, two-seater freighter was a far cry from his T-70, but the point of the mission was to not draw attention to himself. Also to preferably not get his ship stolen. An X-Wing wouldn't last more than an hour in this spaceport. He didn't even think the freighter would, and that rusting block hadn't seen active service since before the Clone Wars.

BB-8 rolled up beside him, gently nudging his boot and whistling softly.

"Yeah, buddy, I'm starting to think I should have left you home too," he replied.

The air was stale and stank of grease, oil, and other things he'd rather not think about. Most of the equipment was retrofitted mining machinery with exposed wires and layers of rust. Something electrical was sparking on the far end of the docking bay, and there was a lone astromech lying on the ground. Occasionally it beeped, but no one seemed to care.

Inside the station was bound to be interesting.

"I wouldn't linger, if I were you."

Poe turned to the bay doors, finding them open and occupied by a dark green Rodian. He was tapping on a datapad.

"This level's got a faulty grid. Power tends to cut and then you're off for a nice – if brief – space trip."

Panicking, BB-8 cried, launching a cable into the nearest wall.

Poe pat the poor droid before walking to the doors. Eventually, he heard the sound of his friend rolling behind him – and then rapidly in front of him.

"What's my docking fee?" he asked, feeling a small amount of relief when the doors closed behind him.

"Hundred fifty credits first day. One hundred for every day after."

"And what's the fee if I don't want my ship to go mysteriously missing?"

If Rodians were capable of smiling, the one before him would be grinning from ear to ear.

"Add another fifty credits on top," the Rodian replied, accepting his credit chip. "Here I thought you were another one of those Core pilots. Come to this heap looking for adventure, and they lose everything but the clothes on their backs. Sometimes, they lose those too."

"I used to be," Poe said, walking down the narrow corridor. He ignored the way the lights flickered as he passed by, as well as what could be described as whimpering on BB-8's part.

The doors at the end opened slowly, grinding on gears that were undoubtedly rusted as well, revealing an unusual world.

The Ring of Kafrene was an outpost that connected two asteroids. There was no natural atmosphere, gravity, or vegetation. It was rock and metal, a self-contained unit that relied heavily on trade to keep running. Problem was, Kafrene didn't lie on any well-travelled trade routes. Without the allure of a thriving mining community, most vessels moved on to safer, better known stops.

Metal towers, conduits, and piping shot upward for as far as Poe could see. The air was thick with steam and other chemicals being churned into the atmosphere out of various vents, clouding the passageways so that there always appeared to be a fog. Everything was a shade of brown, and he doubted that it started that way.

Further up, ships drifted through the gap between the asteroids, where the tops of building stared back at him.

It was enough to make him dizzy.

Aliens of every type shuffled around the area, some in piloting gear, others armed to the teeth, a few sat on the ground begging for spare credits. A bounty hunter dragged a shouting Dug through the crowd. No one reacted. Most just moved along, quiet and plodding. It was another day for them.

"Maybe I still am," he whispered.

He wandered with the crowd for some time, actively keeping BB-8 in front of him – only three passersby attempted to interact with the droid, each met with the same number of volts – until he came across the cantina he was looking for. At least it smelled like something remotely edible over the same stale air.

A young Twi'lek held her hand up as he entered the space, looking him over like she could smell the offworlder on him.

"We don't serve droids here."

Poe looked down at BB-8, who looked up at him. They both looked at the droid working behind the bar, serving drinks and making programmed small talk.

"Well, I've never seen a droid eat anything."

Her eyes glazed over, pupils momentarily scraping the top of her head, before she sighed and moved on, handing drinks over to a rowdy table of miners.

Poe shrugged, and sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools.

And there he waited.

Time passed slowly, and Poe had to actively restrain himself from constantly checking the door. General Organa's mission layout was simple: the contact would come to him. He wasn't to move until then.

Three days ago, C-3PO received an encoded message from one of his contacts – frankly, the idea that a protocol droid had an underground spy network at his proverbial fingertips was still strange to him – detailing a curious event that had occurred on Canto Bight. It alleged that a First Order operative had gone rogue. Leia had decided to err on the side of caution until yesterday when 3PO received a second transmission from this spaceport.

It was potentially the largest lead on the First Order they had ever received – someone who was actually on the inside, and actively seeking a way out – yet Leia had still offered him a choice. It would be dangerous – and was possibly a trap – and if he felt the risk was too great, then they would leave it be.

"It's like you don't know me, General," he'd said with a smile. "I haven't met a risk yet that wasn't worth the effort."

Her smile wasn't quite there. "Sometimes, Dameron, I wish you had."

He'd spent the entire trip mulling over those words.

The Gran that had been occupying the bar since he arrived stood to leave, mumbling some obscenities as he shuffled toward the door. That left Poe alone at the bar – nearly alone in the cantina minus the miner party – and a little sullen at that. A crowded place was better for meeting. Here might have been downright suspicious.

He chanced a glance at the door.

"You humans never were good at being subtle."

Poe looked back to the droid behind the bar. It was a tall, thin thing, with one red sensor that watched him. Perhaps the only thing not rusting in the area, it still maintained a metallic sheen. Someone had jokingly tied a bowtie to what would have been its neck region.

"Excuse me?"

The entire time, the droid had been speaking in simple phrases, exhibiting a simple etiquette programming, but that appeared to have been a ruse on its part.

"Your species fidgets too much. It has a low tolerance for sitting still. Imagine how little would get done if a droid acted the same way."

Poe lowered his voice. "Are you…?"

He could have sworn the droid looked disappointed. "Were you expecting something organic?"

You know, he really didn't have an answer for that.

Poe waited as the droid continued cleaning the bar top, now acutely aware of how much movement his body was making. He continually caught his fingers tapping on the countertop and would put his hands on his lap, only then his knee would start bouncing. BB-8 had grabbed his foot with a little claw to keep it still.

"You're not helping."

The droid whistled shrilly.

Poe pointed a finger at him. "That was rude."

Eventually, the bar droid placed a small cup in front of him without a word. Poe watched it briefly, but it no longer acknowledged him, chirping out a chipper greeting to a Talz that had just entered.

Inside the cup was a small data drive.

Poe watched it a moment, wondering if he shouldn't pretend to take a drink. Instead, he counted to one hundred, grabbed the drive, and made his way out of the cantina.

The crowds had died down slightly, apparently having gone through a shift change when he first entered. Still, there was a steady current of aliens traveling down the narrow passageways. Poe let himself be directed by them, hoping to blend in as much as possible until he chanced upon a more private setting.

They passed through a small marketplace, where the citizens of the station haggled over used equipment and fried food. The walk became suffocating, as it was apparent that the stalls had not initially been considered as part of the station's original layout, leaving the travelers packed shoulder to shoulder.

A small fistfight broke out, knocking over a fruit stand. This led to several individuals grabbing the wayward Jogan fruit and making a run for it, leaving the owner cursing in what he thought was Huttese.

Poe took the momentary chaos as an opportunity to stray from the beaten path, taking a narrow passageway that was lined with piping and probably served as more of a maintenance access. It widened out at the middle, opening up to a chamber that was filled with steam drifting from various vents rising up through dozens of levels. BB-8 just barely managed to roll through, leaving him somewhat confident that they would be alright for the time being.

"Alright, buddy," he said, taking a knee before BB-8 and handing out the drive. "Let's see what you can make of this."

BB-8 beeped in acknowledgement, taking the drive. It only took a moment for his systems to process the data, producing a hologram of a still image – a young woman looking over her shoulder, face slightly blurred – and a few sentences of info.

"Arrived on the station in an unauthorized Republic ship," Poe mumbled, confused by how random the information seemed to be. "Logs wiped clean. Dock personnel unable to locate. Incident on level eighty-two involving half a dozen casualties potentially tied to her. I don't know, this seems like a lot of loosely connected stuff. How do we know it's her?"

His droid whistled and another image appeared, this one dated for the incident in Canto Bight. The projection wasn't nearly as clear as the first, but Poe could tell it was clearly the same woman.

"Alright," Poe acknowledged, standing up at the holograms disappeared. "So, now we just have to find her…in the middle of all this. Yeah, no problem."

The droid beeped.

"Yes, I know I said it would be worth it."

Poe ran a hand over his face. It wouldn't have been the first time he was wrong.

"Is that a BB-series astromech?!"

Startled by the sudden voice, Poe almost pulled the blaster hidden in his jacket, but was able to restrain himself long enough to get a good look at the boy that was now watching them from the opening.

He couldn't have been older than twelve, staring at them with curious hazel eyes and a grin nearly too big for his face. His blonde hair stuck up in all directions, his clothes were covered in grease and grime, and in his hand, he held a single Jogan fruit, clearly having taken advantage of the tussle as well.

BB-8 whistled, his head bobbing back and forth like a proud little shake.

"How did you get one here?" the boy asked, darting out from the narrow passageway and falling to his knees in front of the droid. "Last decent looking droid I saw got scrapped for parts within the hour."

Ignoring the cries of panic from his friend, Poe actually smiled at the kid. At least someone around the area hadn't had their spirits dampened yet.

"Beebee-Ate isn't about to go down without a fight, and trust me, this guy's got a lot of it in him," he replied, patting the droid.

"Has he seen a lot of action?"

Poe shrugged. "A skirmish or two. Nothing he couldn't handle."

BB-8 was practically humming from the attention.

The boy looked up at him. "So, you're not from around here. Why come to this place? We're not exactly near anything."

"Business."

"What kind of business?"

Poe felt his eyes narrowing. "What's with all the questions, kid?"

The boy shrugged, taking a bite from the Jogan. "I have to ask them."

"Why?"

"I needed to distract you somehow," he replied, eyes landing on something that was definitely behind him.

Poe didn't even get the chance to reach for his blaster before something struck the back of his knee, hard, and his leg crumpled to the ground. The other leg followed suit, except when it hit the ground, he felt a mass remain there, applying pressure to his calf. It felt like a knee.

An arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing. The pressure wasn't enough to render him unconscious, but warned that the outcome was possible if he didn't comply.

A shot fired, an electrical burst striking BB-8. The poor droid short-circuited, his components shooting out haphazardly before his systems automatically shut down to prevent further damage to his internal drives.

"Hey! What are you-" Poe choked as the arm squeezed tighter, making his vision pulse. He held his hands up in surrender. "Okay. Okay."

The boy frowned. "Sorry."

He felt the attacker's hand reach under his jacket, securing the blaster.

"Can I have it?" the boy asked, face lighting up briefly before he assumed the attacker gave him a look. The frown returned. "Okay."

"So, I take it you're the fugitive from the First Order, right?" Poe asked, risking further damage to himself, but the arm did not squeeze again. "I mean, you have to be. You're not asking for any credits."

There was no response.

"You didn't shoot me, which is nice. Means you don't want me dead. And if you don't want me dead, that means I have something you want, right?"

Still nothing.

"You know, I've never been good at these guessing games. You're gonna have to speak u-"

Their free hand slapped against his forehead, pulling his head back until he had a good – albeit upside down – view of their face.

And there she was, the woman in the hologram.

She _was_ young, somewhere around his age, though the stern look on her face made her look older. Her dark hair was falling out of a bun, framing a bruised face – the incident wasn't completely one-sided then – and equally dark eyes.

"Do all members of the Resistance talk this much?"

"No. Just me," he mumbled. "I've been told it's a problem."

She sighed and shoved his head forward again.

"Get the droid," she ordered. The boy dropped his fruit and immediately went to BB-8, pushing all his components back in place.

Poe watched it happen, slowly moving his free leg to the side. If he could just knock her off balance, he might have a chance.

When the time felt right, he clasped her arm with both hands and pushed with his leg, careening them both to the side. Using his weight against her, Poe made her land on her back, the force of his shoulders striking her chest causing her arm to release him.

He scrambled out of her grasp, rolling to the side, but the woman recovered fast. Poe felt her hands grasp the back of his jacket, halting his escape attempt and pulling him back. She swung her leg over his body, sitting on his chest, this time not bothering to ease the pressure. Breathing was difficult.

She pointed a blaster at him.

"Using the stun setting within two feet of a target causes irreparable damage to the nervous system," the woman said, the words tumbling from her mouth without a single inflection, as if she was reciting it from a lesson. "You won't be doing that again."

Poe Dameron couldn't help but wonder if General Organa wasn't suddenly feeling smug at that moment.


End file.
